


No Safe Bets

by Xachyn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Slice of Life, There is no universe in which Hawke gets to run away from dealing with other people's shit, betting pool AU (?), but as a Professor/Professor setting, kind of a double Hawke Twins AU situation here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 06:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xachyn/pseuds/Xachyn
Summary: Marian just wants to finish her report for Lady Vivienne. Garrett wants to know if he's making any money on that betting pool. Carver can't seem to get a break.College AU in which someone, probably Varric, starts a betting pool about the identity of Professor Dorian's new lover, and Marian is enlisted to adjudicate.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, minor Hawke/Anders/Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	No Safe Bets

Marian Hawke knew something was up the moment her twin brother, Garrett, sauntered into their apartment with that shit-eating grin at four on a Thursday afternoon when he was definitely supposed to be in lab twelve for Advanced Applied Combustion Magic.

“Garrett, no,” Marian said, looking up from the book she was perusing. This report on the history of magic warfare was due next Friday and Lady Vivienne was sure to skin her alive if she asked for yet another extension.

“Garrett, yes!” He paused, frowning, “Wait, I haven’t said anything.”

“Yes, but I know that face.” She marked her place in the book, knowing that this was a lost battle anyway, and turned fully to face her brother, “What happened to class?”

Garrett’s shit-eating grin only got bigger. “So, Professor Dorian was late to class today, all flustered like, and he spent about fifteen minutes trying to focus on the material before he eventually gave up and dismissed the class with some reading. And then Anders, darling Anders, just turns to me and goes, guess the rumour was true. So I said, wait, what rumour, I didn’t hear shit. And then he said, well, Varric heard from his cousin who heard from this girl who’s a friend of the professor that Professor Dorian had started going out with someone in the university and that it was making him all mushy and romantic, and I said, no way, Professor Dorian Pavus? A stalwart playboy and philanderer? But then Merill, Merill! Of all people! Just looked at me and went, it’s true though, didn’t you see that dreamy lovestruck expression on his face, and I thought, okay, yeah I can see that if I squint hard, I can buy that. So we started making guesses on who it might be, and on our way out towards the mess hall Isabella overheard and put in her really descriptive comment on who she thought the professor was into, but Aveline glared at her in disagreement, and then the next thing we knew, it kind of just snowballed into a betting pool worth a hundred gold piece and I’ve got about fifteen of them on the line so here I am.”

Marian stared. Garrett wheezed.

“Breathe, brother,” She said, still mentally parsing the word vomit that Garrett threw up, “So you think Professor Dorian is dating someone, and you bet fifteen gold pieces that…”

“That Professor Dorian is dating Professor Cullen Rutherford.” Garrett said triumphantly.

Marian snorted. “Cullen? _Cullen?_ You think he’s dating Cullen?”

Professor Cullen was a lecturer on Templar strategy and history at the warrior faculty, and even though the exalted marches and civil conflict between mages and templars were several centuries in the past, there had always been some lingering resentment between the two factions. The fact that he was a stubborn cornerstone of upholding Templar tradition and also conveniently stern and aloof in personality only seemed to make Garrett’s suggestion all the more absurd.

“Hey, don’t diss it, it’s a great theory.” Garrett wagged a finger dramatically.

“And on what basis, dear brother, do you make this hypothesis?”

“My intuition,” Garrett said with such earnest sincerity that Marian believed for a moment that he honestly bought that crazy idea.

“I hope you have fifteen gold pieces to rub together, brother, because I’m afraid you must have taken on a losing bet,” She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, “Besides, he seemed fine earlier in the week. Anyway, are you telling me this because you want me to win some money off you, or…”

“Well, dearest sister, my favourite sibling of the Hawke children four-“ Marian rolled her eyes, “-since you remain an uninvolved, unbiased individual in this betting pool, wouldn’t it be nice if you could go adjudicate this whole thing and figure out which one of us is the winner, since you’re already conveniently the TA for his Master Applied Combustion Magic class and his favourite student, and thusly, most likely to figure it out?”

“And why exactly would I want to do that?”

“Because I’ll split my winnings with you, 70-30, and because _sweet, darling Anders_ said you would be the best person for this.” He grinned.

Marian groaned, because Garrett knew her weak spot, which was also his weak spot. They were both weak for Anders.

“Fine. 60-40 and we have a deal,” Marian begrudged, well aware she was getting nothing out of this apart from Anders’ friendly smile and appreciation. She stared at her book in dismay, Lady Vivienne’s disapproving look already swimming to mind. “And you’re going to do all of my research work for this paper. I actually plan on getting this doctorate, you know?”

Garrett beamed.

\---

Whatever had happened during Garrett’s Advanced Applied Combustion Magic lab session on Thursday seemed mostly resolved on Monday morning’s Master Applied Combustion Magic lecture, and so Marian was not privy to this so-called love-struck mood. Professor Dorian seemed quite gathered, moving through the lecture with typical aplomb, punctuating key points with flashy demonstrations.

Still, when the class settled for a moment to fill in answers for a pop quiz, Marian thought she observed the ghost of a smile (a smile! Not a smirk or a sneer or a gloat! A smile!) gracing his face as he stared dreamily off into the distance.

Maybe her friends were on to something.

The school bell rang in the distance with annoying abruptness.

“Alright, time’s up, pens down, no cheating! Marian, if you would,” Professor Dorian had snapped back to reality, and Marian strode forward to collect stacks of paper from the students, already frowning at how half of them seemed to be blank. As far as she knew, this wasn’t a particularly difficult quiz. When all the papers were collected and the students had shuffled out, she took to arranging them with the professor, looking for an opening.

How should one play this?

The professor was humming to himself, which, while not unorthodox, clearly placed him in a good mood. Which was out of the ordinary, considering that he was definitely looking at the mostly blank quizzes the class had just submitted, and normally, he would be seething in disdain by now.

But he was still humming.

“Had a good weekend, professor?” Marian ventured. That seemed to be just about as good a course as any.

“Mm, indeed. It was pleasant.” The professor murmured as he organized the quiz papers in alphabetical order, because he was pedantic like that.

“Anything interesting?”

“Oh yes. Did you know, in the next village over, there was a festival of lights going on over the weekend? Quite marvellous.”

“Ah, really? I had not heard.” Ferelden was a large place, and it was not uncommon for villages to have their own traditions and festivals. “Where was this?”

“Honnleath, have you heard of it?”

“No, I’m afraid not. How was the festival?”

“Very beautiful, lovely music and wonderful company. It rather seemed as if the villagers had gone all out,” Professor Dorian said sincerely, before letting out a sigh as he tidied the stack of papers before him. “Sadly, the main event was a tad disappointing – the so-called firebreather conjured up little more than a wisp of flame, smaller than the tip of my finger.”

“That’s rather unfortunate.”

“Quite right,” he let out a chuckle, “Fortunately for the villagers, _I_ was there.” Professor Dorian rarely let slip an opportunity to show off, so Marian wasn’t all too surprised to hear that.

“I’m sure the girls in the village were quite star-struck after that.”

The professor looked at her with a bemused expression before bursting into laughter. “Oh, my dear Marian,” Professor Dorian said with a chortle as he strode out the door of the lecture hall, “You should know by now that it’s not the _girls_ who hold my attention. Thank you for today, and I will see you tomorrow!” He exclaimed with a wave of his hand, laughter still following him on his way out, leaving Marian to stand alone in the room as gears clicked into place.

_Ah_.

\---

Somehow, it seemed that nearly everyone else already knew that piece of information.

“Wait, you’re a TA in his class. You’ve had him for six years. He was your thesis advisor _twice_. How do you not know this? Aveline’s got an excuse, what’s yours?” Varric said with increasing incredulity.

“Because I’m a good student that pays more attention to the class than the teacher behind the stand,” Marian sighed. They were huddled around a small table in _The Hanged Man_, a noisy coffeeshop on the corner of the rogue faculty and conveniently owned by Varric (who, apparently, liked the university so much that he simply opened up a shop on campus after graduation).

“Guys, focus.” Garrett said, and Marian shot him a look as he tried to hush them. 

“So Aveline and Fenris are out of the picture now,” Isabelle remarked with joy as Aveline glowered beside her, before leaning across the table to offer an aside to Marian, “They were both betting on Lady Vivienne.”

“Because they’re both mages?” 

“Because they’re both pretentious snobs,” Fenris scowled, sinking into the fat, cushy armchair with folded arms, “So, what, do you just take my money now?”

“Let’s deal with that once we’ve got a clear winner,” Varric offered, “What else did you figure out?”

Marian shrugged, “Nothing else, really. Who did you bet on? It’ll be easier to whittle down a list than to start from scratch.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Varric said with exaggerated grandeur, and Marian rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure it’s Felix. Weren’t they childhood friends? It’s sweet.” Merill said dreamily as she sipped from her diabetes-in-a-cup, or what passed for a vanilla honey frappuccino with whipped cream. Felix was a researcher in the numerology and mathematics faculty, and apart from being frequently seen with the professor, he also had a reputation for exceeding politeness and a terrifying father.

“But Felix is also the son of Professor Dorian’s mentor, Gereon Alexius,” Anders shook his head, “No amount of love or money in the world could make me date my mentor’s kid.”

Marian and Garrett exchanged hasty looks for a moment – their father was briefly an instructor at the university, and Anders was his student at one point.

Garrett cleared his throat, “Well, anyway, Isabela has her money on The Iron Bull, while Anders thinks it might be Doctor Trevelyan.”

Marian nodded. Those seemed like reasonable options. The Iron Bull was some sort of consultant-slash-adjunct-lecturer in the warrior faculty with a big, rippling body (often shirtless, despite Dean Anora’s dismay) that caught the attention of students and staff alike, while Doctor Trevelyan was a quiet, talented healer that rapidly ascended the ranks of academia despite his young age. Marian became acquainted with him back when he was the TA for her undergraduate classes, and she found him a decent man. “And Varric?”

“Varric thinks Professor Dorian is shagging Cullen Rutherford from the warrior faculty,” Anders scoffed, “It’s absolutely insane, and I’ll choke on a dick if it were true.”

Garrett opened his mouth to say something, but Marian interrupted him. “Hang on, Varric, _you_ think Professor Dorian is dating Cullen?” 

“Yep.”

“It’s madness,” Fenris piped from his armchair, “There’s no way Professor Cullen would pick someone like Pavus. Have you seen him? He’s a _fop_.”

Marian disagreed but that was beside the point, settling for shooting her brother a dirty look with a raised eyebrow, “Garrett, you cannot simply copy Varric and call it your intuition.”

“Why not?” Garrett shrugged, “My intuition says Varric is right.”

“And Varric is usually right.” Varric offered from behind his mug of what was clearly Irish coffee. The rest of the table groaned.

“Not this time you’re not,” Isabela said, wagging a finger, “It’s The Iron Bull, I’m sure of it. Do you not look at him and wonder what it’s like to ride _The Bull_? To wonder what it’s like to have him hold you down with one hand while you lash out helplessly, indignant, while he has his wicked way with you?”

Aveline made a loud noise of disgust from beside her, and Isabela only smiled sweetly before the two of them descended into their usual quibble.

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose, turning to Varric. “How many people have you got on this betting pool anyway? Garrett tells me it’s worth a hundred gold pieces?”

Varric smirked, setting his mug down to tick off his fingers. “It’s two hundred and thirty-four gold pieces now. Your cousin, Professor Amell, heard about it from Merill and wanted in on it, so she’s got a handful of pieces in there with Alistair, the lab technician, both with bets on The Iron Bull. The TA, Krem, found out about it through Alistair, then pooled a bunch of money with some friends to bet on The Iron Bull as well. Instructor Cassandra overheard _that_ discussion and yelled at me for about forty-five minutes before heavily suggesting that she would be willing to throw in a few pieces on Doctor Trevelyan. Josephine from the administrative building then overheard Cassandra shouting about it, before offering to put her money on Doctor Trevelyan as well. Amongst a few other people. No one else is betting on friendly old Cullen yet, so I keep offering to raise the stakes. Leliana nearly did, but eventually refrained from placing any bets.” Varric took a long sip from his mug with merry cheer. “It’s all on you now, Marian.”

Marian sighed.

\---

The lab session for Master Applied Combustion Magic was every Tuesday afternoon, the last class slot for the day, so it offered Marian a small window of time to think through the information that the group offered her.

The session went on smoothly, though Professor Dorian seemed somewhat impatient, constantly glancing at his watch, his fingers tapping against his arm as he swept around the lab, checking and double checking the various set-up in front of each student.

Something was obviously up – the professor tended to do quadruple checks on a normal day. Today was clearly not a normal day, but other than that oddity of seeming impatience, the rest of the class passed by with painfully typical normalcy. 

Until the very last fifteen minutes of the class, while everyone was putting away their apparatus and there was the soft chattering of noise that tended to rise with the end of a lesson, did something interesting happen. Doctor Trevelyan popped his head into the room.

“Ah, Dorian? A minute?”

The professor’s face lit up, striding over as he moved to step outside the classroom. “Yes, of course. Marian, would you mind wrapping up?”

Marian nodded, listing off the details of the report the class needed to submit, though her attention drifted towards the quiet conversation outside, wondering if Doctor Trevelyan was the source of the professor’s distraction. As the class began to stream out, Professor Dorian returned, seemingly pleased about something.

“Everything all right?” Marian offered.

“Hmm? Yes, of course.” He snapped his briefcase close with good cheer, “Now, I’m going to need help going through those test papers from yesterday. Mostly someone to hold me back from setting any of them on fire, ought to be fast, don’t think I’ve seen anything actually worth reading, mind you, an utter disgrace. Shall we say, ten in the morning tomorrow, at my office?”

Marian nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Excellent. And how is your work with the good Lady Vivienne going?”

Marian grimaced, “Less than ideal. There are far too many differing accounts of the Orlais-Tevinter war of the Black Age, most of them written in a tongue that requires constant reference to a dictionary.”

“Yes, the scribes of Tevinter always preferred writing with a heavy flourish, a distinct mark of their class. I would imagine it’s much the same in Orlais,” Professor Dorian nodded to himself, sounding strangely proud, “If you ever need help with a Tevinter text, my door is always open.”

“Thanks.” Marian said in sincere appreciation, but before she could say anything else, a knock on the door sounded again. Doctor Trevelyan stood there, foot tapping in impatience.

“Sorry Marian,” he apologised, “But Dorian, we really must go.” 

“Right you are. Sorry to cut this short, Marian. I will see you tomorrow?”

Marian nodded, and watched as the both of them head out in a flurry, shoulders close together as they spoke in low voices. It rather felt like Anders was going to come out ahead on this.

\---

Because the Maker had probably forsaken her, she got home to find Varric, Garrett and Carver sitting around the living room working on some complicated card game, while Bethany lounged on an armchair, watching it all with curiosity.

Because damn finishing her report on time with no distractions, damn escaping Lady Vivienne’s cold glare of disapproval to live one more day, and maybe damn her for choosing to do her doctorate thesis on magical anthropology and the intersection of culture and spell-crafting and having Lady Vivienne as her thesis advisor in the first place.

“Sister,” Carver said, looking up from the mess of cards on the living room carpet, disapproval already clear on his tongue, “You really ought to visit mother more often. She wouldn’t stop talking about you.” Marian and Garrett had moved out of the Hawke family home in their postgraduate years, hoping to experience that ‘living-outside-life’ that they didn’t have in earlier times.

“Wait,” Garrett interrupted, “You said she was talking about me.”

Marian rolled her eyes, “Garrett, did you do any of the research work I asked you for?”

“Yep. It’s all on your desk.”

“And by yes, he meant he got me to do most of the legwork and mark out all relevant sources,” Bethany supplied from her seat, “Hello sister.”

“Hello Bethany. Thanks for your help. It’s good to know _some people_ in the family can be relied on.”

Garrett snickered while Carver frowned.

“Why are you getting brother to do your work for you?”

“Because Garrett has it in his head that Professor Dorian is dating Professor Cullen, and wants me to find out for his little betting pool.”

Carver snorted, “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no way they’re dating. Professor Cullen is too… _cool_ for that.”

“Still nursing your little crush on Professor Cullen, little brother?” Garrett said proudly while Carver spluttered, “They grow up so fast.”

“I don’t- It’s not-” Carver started hotly, “Professor Cullen is a highly accomplished warrior and I happen to respect _that_.”

Marian shrugged, and supposed that as the only warrior in a household of mages, Carver must have clung on to the first moderately impressive swordsman he laid his eyes on, like a new-born duckling in search of a mother.

“Sure.” Garrett said, deadpan with utter disbelief.

“And what makes you think Professor Cullen is into men anyway?” Carver pointed out impatiently, “I heard he’s only ever dated women.”

“Why, do you want a shot with him?” Garrett wriggled his eyebrows and Carver groaned.

“It’s a fair point.” Never let it be said that it’ll be a cold day in hell before Marian agreed with Carver. It did happen. People just failed to notice. Like now.

“Call it…” Garrett looked to Varric, “My intuition.”

Marian rolled her eyes again. Varric frowned as he shuffled some cards.

“Garrett, please stop saying that. You’re making me sound like a weird appendage of yours.”

“I think it’s cute. Professor Dorian and Professor Cullen.” Bethany offered, and Marian raised an eyebrow at that. Wherever did she get that idea?

“Well, _I _think if you lot still want to have a big sister, you should let her work on that paper in peace or a gravestone is all you’ll have of her.” Marian said, trudging to her room to barricade herself in. She resisted the loud jeers (Carver) and cheers (Garrett) for about thirty-five minutes before she slunk out of her room for just one round of cards that unsurprisingly turned into ten.

\---

Gratefully, she woke up the next morning to a text from Professor Dorian, asking to reschedule the test marking session because he had come down with a cold. Not that she was glad he was sick, but it did give her the opportunity to work on all of the things that should have been done yesterday.

After firing off a text to wish him well, Marian dragged herself out of her bedroom for a cup of tea. Carver was still there, lounging on their living room couch while idly channel surfing.

“Don’t you have a Wednesday morning class?”

Carver shrugged. “Professor Cullen has been out sick for the last two days now. Class has been cancelled.”

Guess that cold really was getting around.

“Breakfast?” She offered. Garrett had made a huge stockpile of waffles for the freezer a few weekends ago. Carver mumbled something that sounded vaguely like assent, so she pulled a couple out and popped them in the toaster. Marian was going through the motions of putting the kettle on and rummaging around the cabinets in search of a strong blend of tea when Garrett’s bedroom door slammed open.

“Anders is coming over for a game of firevolleyball,” he announced as he marched into the living room, already dressed in athletic get up, “Are you in?”

“_No_.” Marian’s not letting her twin brother drag her into anymore shenanigans today. “Why are you so free? Don’t you have anything due? Aren’t we both doctoral candidates?”

Garrett waved a hand around, “What will be will be, you know?”

“You’re lucky Professor Surana is so chill,” Marian grumbled as she dumped two teabags into a mug, “Lady Vivenne once threatened to fail my paper because I was one minute late for submission. One minute!” Her undergraduate years still gave her nightmares sometimes.

“That’s because I’m not a masochist like you, sister. I know how to pick my advisors.” Garrett rounded on the lump lying on their couch. “Dearest brother Carver! You’re still here! Excellent, help me set up the rooftop court for a game.” He doesn’t let Carver voice any complaints as he dragged him out by the scuff.

Marian shook her head, scoffing down the waffle when it’s ready and washing it down with bitter tea. She had fifteen thousand words to write, and damn it, she was going to get it done.

\---

It took Marian nearly thirty-eight hours of consecutive writing, peppered with shovelling food into her system and the occasional fifteen-minute nap, before she was finally done. Only then did she allowed herself a proper eight hours of sleep, before spending the bulk of Friday editing her work with two hours to spare.

It was of reasonably satisfactory quality, she thought, and she could always edit it further when incorporating it to her final thesis, so gave the stack of paper a good pat before hopping into the shower for a welcome refresh. She got dressed to head out to campus in a considerably lighter mood.

Carver was still in the living room when she came out of her room.

“Decided to move in, have you?” She asked cheerfully as she stuffed her papers into her bag. Carver glowered at her.

“Are you finally done with your paper?”

“Yes.”

“Coming home for dinner?”

Marian raised an eyebrow, her Big Sister senses tingling.

“Is something wrong, Carver?”

Carver mumbled something incoherent in response.

Her brother was obviously grouchy about something, and as much as Marian would love to offload this on Garrett, the distractions that her twin had been piling on Carver the last few days hardly seemed to have work. Plus, she’s out of excuses, no longer able to claim being busy, so she put on her metaphorical Big Sister pants, and gave him an assuring pat on the shoulder.

“I’ve got to hand this in to Lady Vivienne,” She said, jerking a thumb at her satchel, “Want to walk with me?”

Carver mumbled something again, but got up nonetheless, brushing his hands over his mustard coloured sweatshirt to straighten out the wrinkles.

The silence between them lasted only until they left the building lobby, and then Carver burst into frustration.

“It’s just so… annoying!” He exclaimed, “Ever since you and brother left, mother has been all, _Marian this, Garrett that, oh how I miss my poor babies_, even though Bethany and I are right there. And every time I mention that you’re only a fifty minutes’ drive away and it’s not as if you guys have gone and got yourselves killed or something, she just glares at me as if it was my fault you guys decided to leave the house in the first place. And! You know how father is, always away on one expedition or the other ever since Bethany and I started university, so mother just spends all that time moping around the house with me to bear the brunt of it.” He kicked a stray pebble in his way, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

Marian grimaced, “It _is_ a big house. I guess mother just feels lonely.”

Carver shot her a look, “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Marian sighed as they rounded the corner of the botanical park, the mage faculty of the university coming into view. It was quiet and largely empty, and she supposed most had already left, seeking some adventure to fuel the weekend ahead. “I just didn’t want to continue making the hour long commute to school for another four years,” she explained, “And I come home for dinner every other week.”

Carver hardly seemed convinced, “Tell that to mother.”

“I did.”

“Well, keep telling her that.”

Marian resisted another sigh as they climbed the steps into the building. Carver could be so difficult sometimes.

“I’m never getting laid,” Carver bemoaned suddenly when they entered the staff wing of the building. “Mother watches my every move and wants to know exactly what time I’m home every day and insists on tagging along whenever I try to go out.”

Marian stared at him, incredulous. “Is that what this is? Carver, did you run away from home because you were getting blue balls?”

Carver scowled, “I didn’t run away from home, and I don’t want to hear you say blue balls! Urgh! Gross!”

“You started it!” Lady Vivienne’s office was empty, door wide open, so she strode in and dropped her papers off on the desk. “Look, Carver, I promise to come home for dinner and distract mother for you, if and when you ever find yourself a nice date.”

“Fine,” Carver grunted, “but why are there so many conditionals in your promise? Are you doubting me?”

Marian rolled her eyes, “Not at all, dearest brother of mine.”

Carver huffed, but acquiesced otherwise. “Thanks.” He muttered, and they walked down the hallway in relative peace. Marian was just about to pat herself on the shoulder for a job well done when a loud yelp echoed down the corridor, followed by the sound of something being smashed.

“That sounded like Professor Dorian’s office,” Marian said, already sprinting over, electricity building in her fingertips, “Maybe he needs help?” The professor always played up the number of enemies he left behind in Tevinter, so it didn’t seem improbable that one of them might have found their way to Ferelden.

“I’ll get it!” Carver called out from beside her, and kicked the door down in one swift motion.

The sight before Marian, regrettably, was one permanently etched into her mind, because the Maker clearly had a twisted sense of humour, giving you answers to questions when you least expect it.

Professor Dorian was sitting on his desk, legs straddling the waist of Professor Cullen, the former with his shirt tugged off and pooling around him on the table, and their fingers tangled in each other’s hair. They froze as the door slammed down on the ground, wide-eyed. Next to the table, the broken shards of a glass vase lay idly, almost innocuously.

Beside her, Carver gaped.

A terribly uncomfortable moment stretched out before Professor Cullen quickly detangled himself from Professor Dorian, coughing loudly as he straightened his coat, pulling its fur-trimmed collar up to hide the growing red across his face.

“What are two still doing in school?” Professor Cullen was obviously trying for stern, but it fell somewhere between surprise and embarrassment instead.

Marian remembered to pick her jaw off the ground, “Paper. Submission.” She looked away to stare at the ceiling, mentally scrambling for brain bleach to burn this memory of her professor _half naked in his office straddling another man_ from her mind. It seemed futile. Not even the thought of Ser-Pounce-A-Lot was enough to chase this image away. The Maker hated her. Everything had a price. This was the price for submitting her work on time.

Professor Dorian hopped off the table and hurriedly pulled his shirt back on, clearing his throat loudly. “Ah, Marian? A word?” There was a nervous edge to his voice, and Marian nodded numbly, stepping outside because she could never see the professor’s office in the same way ever again.

Carver was still gaping at Professor Cullen, so Marian punched him lightly on the shoulder and dragged him out.

“Right!” Professor Dorian said with false cheer, his fingers fiddling with the end of his moustache. His voice sounded hoarse, the remnants of the cold still there. “I’m really sorry you had to see that, it was, ah, highly unprofessional and we’ve gotten carried away, but it’s no excuse. Still, I would really appreciate your discretion on this.”

Marian nodded numbly, wanting to get out of this situation as possible. Every so often, though, there’s this knee-jerk reaction of a righteous fury of sorts in her that pushed her to do the right thing, something ingrained in her by her father, so she spoke carefully to temper the annoyance more frequently associated with her brothers, “Well… yes, I understand. Still, perhaps you should talk things out with Doctor Trevelyan?”

Professor Dorian raised an eyebrow, “Er, what does Maxwell have to do with this?”

Marian stared, “Honestly, professor! I consider Doctor Trevelyan a friend of sorts, and one would imagine it’s quite hurtful to have your partner cheating on them!”

“Maker, no!” Professor Dorian cried, “Maxwell is a dear friend and all, but no, I would never – no.” he asserted, shaking his head.

“Oh!” Marian coughed, that annoyance quickly diminished, gone as soon as it came. “Right. Um, sorry for the misunderstanding.” Marian waved vaguely behind her, because, _urgh_, stupid sense of justice, wrong time and place! “I should go.”

Professor Dorian nodded, hesitant, and Marian sprinted off, pulling a seemingly brain-dead Carver along with her.

\---

(And, if Carver had gone and blabbered it off to the family group chat the moment his brain finally caught up, leading to Garrett blabbering it off to the rest of their friends and the entire betting pool, well, that’s not really on her. Even if she did accept the generous pouch of gold that Garrett dropped on her bed.)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 11pm and instead of writing my NaNo on which I am 9k words behind on I ended up working on this all day /sobs/ my "warm-up" writing just seems to get longer and longer. also i am clearly weirdly on a fic writing roll because can i just address how i disappeared in 2014 and then suddenly reappeared with 3 fics in 3 days from 3 different fandoms five years later but yes it is indeed me


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